


Mendacium

by maideniron



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Deception, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 09:20:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11056005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maideniron/pseuds/maideniron
Summary: Elizabeth Keen knows the truth. She never expected that it would hurt as much as it did, but she's glad it does. It reminds her that all her previous beliefs were wrong, all the intentions she believed were thrust upon her - her chances, they're all wrong. Raymond Reddington isn't the most likely father, but Elizabeth swears she'll make it work.





	Mendacium

**Author's Note:**

> (This one-shot is set around 4x22)
> 
> Before anyone starts pointing fingers, I'm well aware of the paternity reveal on The Blacklist. I, personally, as well as many other Lizzington shippers don't believe that the test was done on /our/ Raymond's blood. As in, /our/, Raymond. Please keep the nasty comments to a minimum, this isn't in reference to incest at all. It's a kudos to what Elizabeth was forced to believe in the years Raymond was in her life, an acceptance to what was recently revealed to her.

He lied.

As she holds the parchment in her hand, fingers crinkling the sheet from how hard she was gripping it, she knows the truth. Elizabeth Keen, Elizabeth Scott, /Masha Rostova/ - because at the end of the day she knows that she can’t run away from who she is - knows the truth. The truth is cold, the truth is hard and it is a bruising force, but it is the truth. The sound of the clock above, manual, ticks away as her heart syncs in union with it. Click, thud, click, thud. It continued that way until she was able to grasp at the chair arms on either side of her and haul herself out of her heaving seat. She feared that if she sat there any longer that she’d become a part of the chair itself, forever sewn into the cushion and plastered to the metal on either sides. Her feet fail her, ankles rolling as whatever shoe support she put on the day did just that: fail her. Elizabeth’s body lunged forward haphazardly, blushed fingers reaching for the closest thing for her to grab on - the door handle. It clicked and swiveled, cold. It reminded her that this was real. 

Raymond Reddington was her father.

It was as clear as day and it was real. Elizabeth didn’t need to stoop to a childish level to pinch herself, she knew it was real. The thundering of her heart rendered it as it was: real. The paper had slipped from her hands when she nearly collided into the door knob with her nose, the paper that held the truth - it was real. All of this was real, just as real as she expected it to be. The door offered a breath of fresh air, one that she desperately needed as she made her way to the warehouse elevator. The rubber along her shoes were light, thudding on the weaved iron steps as she gripped onto the bannister with unnecessary force. He lied to her, that was the first thought that popped into her head when she read the results, a common thought for a daughter who was deceived. A father wasn’t supposed to lie, Raymond Reddington /promised/ her that he hadn’t lied. He told her that he would never lie to her, and he lied about that. Lies, continuous lies but - what did she expect from a common criminal? No, not even that. Raymond Reddington wasn’t a common criminal, he was a cryptic one. He was suave, charming, dedicated to his craft and persistent to protect those he loved. If she saw his actions as a lie, Raymond must have seen it as a necessity. A necessity to protect his long lost daughter. God, how could she have been so blind? It was there, it had been there since the very beginning and - as a profiler she should have known. 

A /real/ profiler would have known.

But, she wasn’t really a profiler anymore, now was she? She previously was an agent, dedicated and persistent like the rest of her coworkers. Then, she became an informant after her Bonnie and Clyde days with Reddington, and then - he got the president to pardon her. The President of the United States, /Raymond/ did that for her. It was clear to everyone but her, obvious - like Agnes’ ‘find it’ books. The butterfly was so big and so bright as it hid among the masses of blues and purples, but Elizabeth was colorblind. Not, actually - figuratively. She chose to see what she wanted to see, she didn’t want to believe it.

Elizabeth didn’t want to believe it.  
-

She knew.

A knock graced his door. It was the motel previous, the one had stationed himself in before all of this mess with Kate went down - and he was prepared to retire for the night. But, that knock. It wasn’t bold, it wasn’t urgent or desperate. It was quiet, gentle - fearful, even. 

It was Elizabeth.

Raymond wanted to comment about her attire. He wanted to put some type of screen between them, a playful teasing one, something to distract him from the fact that they were alone in a hotel room together. It wasn’t the most romantic of settings but, did romance have to be physical? Did the walls have to be shimmering in a deep burgundy, laced with gold and black to give off a sensual lace print to /make/ the mood? Romance wasn’t physical, it was emotional. After all, without two longing correspondents, two pulsing points - there wouldn’t be romance at all. 

His face pulled, ready to urge a smile and then he saw it. The paper, an envelope that was crinkled and worn. It was new, of course, new because of the stamp that was stationed on the very front. Upon close inspection, it was addressed to Harold Cooper. Raymond immediately felt dread quake in his chest, lacing through his ribs and plunging through his lungs. The needle was sharp, weaving a pattern to pull his lungs tight against his rib cage, forcing him to lose his words. He opened it, he opened it and - it was all there. 

Except it wasn’t.

“You - lied to me.” The smell of her hair brushed past him, almost numbing the icy pain of her words. 

He was stunned, not because of the reveal of parentage but because he /couldn’t/ tell her otherwise. Raymond Reddington, the mask of the man he had worn for over the past few decades, was dead. In taking his identity, he’d taken what remnants were left of his life. His wife, his daughter - both astray and gone. He, himself, died and was rebirthed the father of the daughter before him. He did it for her safety, only for her. He prized her above the rest, he loved /her/. 

He’d done all of this for her, and he couldn’t even explain himself.  
Elizabeth went on. She was talking and, Raymond couldn’t even hear her. Her words were muted in his ears, above the surface of the water he was submerged in. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t tell her, that was the continuous thought.

He had to let her believe this.

His lips moved to form words, tongue grazing his bottom row of teeth - but she interrupted him. As she always did and, as usual, he didn’t complain. Raymond never complained around her.

“And, I’m not gonna walk away from that.” Her voice was low, eyes set - determined. In that moment, she reminded him of her mother. His cold, /cold/ Katarina. Before he could reject it, because even the heavens knew he wouldn’t be able to, two firm arms wrapped around his neck. Her fingertips dug into his loose, white dress shirt and pulled - desperate for clarification that all of this was real.

Raymond stared, he stared into the terrible blankness that was his lie. He stared and stared until he couldn’t anymore. Elizabeth was breathing against his collar, against his neck and the back of his head and he /couldn’t/ deny her what she needed. Elizabeth Keen wanted family.  
His arms laced in a pathetic manner around her waist, supporting her back as he gave her just that.

He’d give her family.

He’d give her family until she learned the truth, until she realized that two years ago - he was the one to swipe her memory. Raymond was the one who had done all of this, he’d bent Elizabeth in different directions, conforming her to protect her - and soon she’d hate him for it. She’d hate him because of his lies to coat the false ones, because he lied to protect her. He lied to protect her happy ending, what she had left of a solace.

He lied.


End file.
